The Wives’ Revenge

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  The maid grabbed her coat and shot from the room.

  Violet took the stairs two at a time to Harry’s room where she checked on him. He was sweating, so she fetched a flannel and bowl of cool water.

  Harry whimpered and shivered as Violet dabbed his forehead with the wet cloth.

  ‘Oh my baby, please be all right, please!’ she whispered tearfully.

  Hearing the knock on the front door, she rushed downstairs. Dr Shaw stamped the snow from his boots and stepped inside.

  Violet was shocked at the sight of him. His complexion was white and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

  ‘Where is he?’ he asked.

  Violet led the way and watched as Dr Shaw examined Harry.

  ‘I’m sorry Violet, but it is scarlet fever. I’m run off my feet with it,’ he said, reaching into his Gladstone bag. Passing over a ridged glass bottle with a cork stopper, he went on, ‘One teaspoonful three times a day. I’m sorry but it’s the best I can do. Ventilate the room. Sponge him down too, it will help reduce his temperature.’ The doctor sighed as Violet thanked him. ‘I wish I could do more.’

  After seeing Dr Shaw on his way, Violet sat by Harry’s bedside bathing his little body. She was so intent on her task she didn’t hear Spencer until he walked into the room.

  ‘Violet?’

  ‘Oh Spencer! It’s Harry, he has scarlet fever!’ Only now did she allow her tears to fall freely.

  ‘Oh Christ!’ Spencer came to his son’s side and looked down at the flushed little face.

  ‘Dr Shaw has been, he left some medicine,’ Violet croaked.

  ‘Do the others know?’

  Violet shook her head. ‘I couldn’t leave Harry, not even for a moment.’

  Spencer wrapped her in his arms and Violet finally let go of her emotions. She burst into tears, the huge sobs heaving her shoulders. Then suddenly she realised Spencer was sobbing too. Holding tightly to each other, they cried out their fear into the quiet room.

  Harry moaned and Violet quickly moved to bathe him down again. She saw Spencer wince as their little boy’s body gave an involuntary shiver. His breathing was short and shallow, his eyes closed as he battled the disease that was ravaging him.

  Violet trickled cool water on his lips and heard him swallow then he coughed. He opened his eyes and began to cry softly. She coaxed him to take his medicine then gave him a cool drink. He drank thirstily.

  ‘That’s a good boy, now you go back to sleep. Mummy and Daddy will stay right here with you.’

  Closing his eyes again, Harry whimpered in his misery.

  ‘Poor little thing,’ Spencer said, his hand on Violet’s shoulder as she sat by the bed. ‘Violet, I’ll go and let Annie know what’s happening, then ask Charlie if he’d be good enough to tell the others.’ He ended with a sniff.

  Violet nodded. ‘Tell them to stay away, Spencer – just in case.’

  Spencer walked quietly from the room and across to the Greens’ living room door. Tapping gently, he waited.

  The door opened and immediately seeing his face, Annie asked, ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Harry has scarlet fever, Annie! Violet says to stay away until it’s all clear as you know yourself adults can contract it too. Charlie, would you do me a favour? Would you go and tell the others. I know the weather is grim, but Kath, at least, should know. I can’t leave Harry and Violet or I would go myself. Then I want you both to stay here, please.’

  Charlie grabbed his coat. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ He then rushed out into the snowy night.

  Spencer turned to leave and heard Annie’s door close. He sighed but then saw Annie fly past him and bolt up the stairs. His heart swelled with love and respect for Annie as, despite his warning to stay put, she had put his wife and son before herself.

  Annie tiptoed into Harry’s room, followed shortly afterwards by Spencer, and heard Violet crying quietly.

  ‘Oh my wench!’ Annie whispered as she caught her friend up in her arms. She held Violet tightly as she wept, her own tears rolling unchecked down her face.

  Letting go, Violet sniffed. She sat again by the bed. Spencer drew another chair next to her for Annie.

  ‘Dr Shaw’s been,’ Violet whispered.

  ‘I didn’t see him come,’ Annie said, ‘I must have been in the other room. I’ve been working on my herb creams.’ Violet nodded.

  ‘I’ll ring down for tea,’ Spencer spoke quietly.

  ‘Oh, I sent the cook and the maid home, sweetheart. I thought it best to stay isolated until Harry is well again.’

  ‘That makes sense. I’ll go and make the tea. We’ll all feel better for a cup.’

  A nod was the best Violet could manage. Without taking her eyes off Harry, she said, ‘Annie, I’m so afraid!’

  Grasping the girl’s hand, Annie said, ‘I know gel, but try to stay positive. That little lad is strong, he can beat this.’

  Looking at her friend, Violet asked, ‘Do you really think so?

  ‘Yes love, I do.’ The older woman nodded. ‘Look at him, he’s fighting hard. He’ll come through, you’ll see.’ Annie was not so sure her words would prove true, but she needed to bolster the child’s mother.

  Spencer brought in the tray and they sat in silence to drink their tea, all eyes on the little boy fighting for his life.

  A little while later, Charlie arrived back with Kath and Joshua in tow. Regardless of the risk of catching the disease, their coming had showed their concern for Harry, Violet and Spencer rather than for themselves. They were frozen to the bone and it was Annie who went to make fresh tea; Charlie was right behind her.

  Crying her heart out over the tea, Annie asked God how he could be so cruel as to let this happen to such good people. Charlie cradled her as she sobbed and for the first and only time in his life he was glad he had no children. He couldn’t begin to imagine the heartbreak for them all if young Harry were to die.

  Violet rushed into her mother’s arms and they wept as they held each other tightly. ‘How is he?’ Kath asked at last as she peeped over at her grandson.

  ‘No change,’ Violet hiccupped.

  Spencer brought another chair for Kath and stepped back to face his father. Joshua threw his arms around the young man, holding him in a tight bear hug. ‘Oh Dad!’ Spencer cried.

  ‘I know lad, I know.’ Joshua sniffed back his own tears.

  Mother and grandmother sat either side of the bed watching over Harry. ‘Mum,’ Violet raised her eyes to Kath, ‘he’s so precious, what if…?’

  ‘You stop that!’ Kath snapped. ‘Stop thinking like that, do you hear me?’

  Violet’s breath caught in a sob.

  ‘Now then,’ Kath went on, ‘give him another wash down and we’ll see how he goes through the night.’

  Violet wet her child’s lips again then sponged his body. She winced as he shivered when the cold cloth touched his skin and she wondered if it was hurting him.

  After their tea, Annie suggested Kath and Joshua went to their quarters to get some rest. Reluctantly Kath agreed and they left to sit with their friends.

  Violet watched the fever rage in her son and how he tossed his head from side to side as if trying to shake it off. He moaned quietly then whimpered like he was in pain. Her fear grew into panic when she couldn’t rouse him to take his medicine.

  ‘Leave him to sleep, sweetheart, it’s the best thing for him at the moment,’ Spencer tried to comfort his distraught wife.

  It was in the early hours of the following morning that Harry opened his eyes.

  Violet and Spencer both heaved a sigh of relief. Violet gave him a little drink of cool water.

  ‘Mummy,’ the child croaked.

  ‘Hello little man,’ Violet managed a weak smile.

  ‘Love you Mummy, Daddy love you.’ Harry whispered. Their little boy closed his eyes again before releasing his very last breath.

  Violet began to pant. ‘Harry…. Harry!’ Then realisation struck and she screamed a
t the top of her voice. ‘No! Oh God nooooooo!’ The sound reverberated around the house like a howl from a wounded animal. Her bone-chilling wails rang out as she scooped up her son. Pushing his fringe gently off his brow, she cradled him close to her, rocking back and forth, her sobs loud in the quiet of the room.

  Spencer dropped into a chair and yelled out his anguish, his face covered with his hands.

  The screams and wails brought the others running. The sight that met them brought each to tears.

  Violet was sobbing like her heart had broken, never to be mended. Spencer’s sobs too were loud as he held his wife and son.

  Kath made to rush to her daughter but Annie held her back. ‘No Kath,’ she said gently, ‘come away wench, they need to say their goodbyes.’ Annie’s silent tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped off her chin.

  Kath sobbed as she folded into Joshua’s arms barely able to stand. Charlie lay an arm around Annie’s shoulder and led the others back to their home before he set out once more along the snow-laden streets, buffeted by freezing winds, to fetch Dr Shaw, who would need to officially pronounce young Harry dead and issue a death certificate.

  The exhausted doctor said he would be along shortly, so Charlie made his way to Martha and Mary’s to impart the sad news before returning home.

  Dr Shaw arrived and bustled into the room. He shook Spencer’s hand and moved to the bedside.

  Violet looked up at him but her eyes were glazed over. She still cradled Harry in her arms gently.

  ‘Come on, Violet, let me take a look at your boy,’ the doctor coaxed. He had seen that look many times on other mothers’ faces. She was not going to let him take her child.

  The stricken young woman pulled her dead child closer to her in a protective gesture.

  ‘Violet,’ Dr Shaw went on, ‘let me see the little one.’

  She shook her head. The doctor sighed.

  Spencer moved to his wife, ‘Sweetheart, let me take him for a while.’ He held out his arms and Violet allowed him to lift the boy away from her. Kissing his son’s forehead, he laid him on the bed before putting his arms around his wife and moving her back a step.

  The doctor moved in to examine the child. He shook his head, saying, ‘I’m so very sorry.’

  Violet began to wail again as if only now realising her son had died. She fought to get to him. ‘Harry… no, no… Harry wake up! Oh God!’

  Dr Shaw left a tonic on the bedside table. ‘Give that to her, Spencer, it will help her sleep.’

  Spencer nodded his thanks, his tears coming thick and fast.

  Annie was waiting at the door to see the doctor out before she made tea and breakfast for all in the downstairs kitchen. No one ate, but everyone drank their tea.

  Joshua left to inform the undertakers they would be needed while Spencer carried his wife to their bed and administered the tonic.

  Kath and Annie held tight to each other as they sobbed their grief, before they would begin the laying out process. Silently they washed Harry’s small body and patted him dry gently, before dressing him in his Sunday best clothes. Kath combed his hair then both stood looking down at the child who looked like he was sleeping.

  The undertaker’s cart rumbled up the snow-covered driveway; a small white coffin sat on the back. Joshua led him to Harry’s room. He watched as the undertaker very gently lifted Harry and lay him in the wooden box. ‘Sleep well Harry Gittins,’ the undertaker whispered before placing the lid on the coffin.

  Joshua sniffed back his tears and shook the man’s hand. He had told them he wanted the best for his grandson and had paid well for it.

  Joshua and the undertaker carried the coffin down to the parlour where it was laid on the table. Candles at the four corners were lit and the curtains remained closed.

  The undertaker gave his condolences and left.

  Joshua went back to his sobbing wife and their friends.

  ‘Violet?’ Kath asked.

  ‘It’s all quiet, she’s probably sleeping.’

  Annie had ensured the curtains in the whole house had stayed closed, announcing to the outside world there had been a death in the family.

  Martha and Mary arrived and Annie brought them into her part of the house where Joyce had joined them. Violet and Spencer, she told them, were not up to seeing anyone.

  Joshua and Charlie went to visit the vicar to arrange a time for Harry’s interment.

  The five women sobbed out their grief in Annie’s living room.

  *

  Callers came from all over the town with condolences and flowers and the women thanked them all; Violet was too deep in despair to see anyone.

  On the day of the funeral Joshua and Spencer carried the small white coffin between them at the head of the funerary cortege to St. Bartholomew’s churchyard. People lined the streets, women sobbed and men doffed their caps as they walked slowly to Harry’s final resting place. Kath and Annie held Violet up as she walked behind her husband and his father. No one noticed that the curtains of every house in the streets were closed as a sign of respect.

  Standing around the grave, the vicar conducted the service amid sobs.

  As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Violet collapsed onto the dirt, her arms outstretched to the tiny white box, and gave a desperate, heart-rending howl. ‘Harry… nooooooooooooooo! My baby! Don’t, please don’t, he’ll be all alone! Spencer stop them! Harry…!’

  Everyone drew in a breath and held it for a moment as Violet threw back her head and screamed at the sky. ‘Why? Why did you take my son from me?’

  Spencer lifted her into his arms and swiftly carried her to the coach and sped away home.

  Back at Gittins Manor, Annie reflected over the past few days. Everything had happened so fast, the disease hitting the town; Harry’s death, other children dying all over Wednesbury. The grief of families spread far and wide and then… no more cases of Scarlet Fever were reported. The fever had gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving death and destruction in its wake.

  Over the next few days, Kath and Annie stayed with Violet and Spencer; the other men throwing themselves into their work in an effort to deal with their own grief in their own way.

  Annie watched Violet as she sat and stared out of the window of her living room. No words came from her, just an occasional dry sob.

  Violet’s heart had shattered like a pane of glass and Annie knew it would be something she would never fully recover from, but in time she would be able to cope with it in her own way. For now, she needed the love and support from her family, as well as the ‘Wives’, wrapped around her.

  Fifty-Three

  Grief lay over Wednesbury town a death shroud, cloaking at least one family in three. Violet, as were other mothers, was deep in despair, and nothing seemed to lift her spirits. Work and the business forgotten, she sat day after day silently weeping for her lost son.

  Spencer felt the waves of misery wash over him time after time. One minute he felt able to cope with Harry’s death as much as it was possible, the next he sat crying his heart out. He felt he would drown in his misery. He had tried to talk to Violet, to encourage her to speak to him, but she remained in a dark world no one else could penetrate. Spencer was watching his wife waste away and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The strain of this on top of his own grief was threatening his health too.

  Violet stared out of her silent world. Snowflakes fell, adding to the pile already dumped overnight. The fire was lit but she didn’t feel its warmth. There were quiet conversations going on, but she heard no words. Her mind only saw and heard Harry as he was growing up. The pictures played in her head but stopped just before he became ill, then began again from his birth. Over and over they played, like she was stuck in time, unable to break the loop.

  Her life was conducted in a trance-like state. At night she would take herself to bed, only to lie awake. During the day, she sat staring out of the window. Even Kath could not snap her out of the stupor that held her tight in
its grip.

  At the ‘Gift Shop’ work went on as usual, albeit in a sombre mood.

  ‘Violet is worrying me,’ Mary said to Martha one day, ‘she’s not eating much and she’s not sleeping.’

  ‘I know, wench. Christ it’s hard – no parent should have to bury their child, it ain’t right… it’s against the laws of nature!’

  Giving a nod, Mary went on, ‘We have to do something, Martha… we have to!’

  ‘She just needs time, wench, it’ll get easier with time.’

  ‘Martha!’ Mary snapped without realising the sharpness of her tone until her friend looked at her. ‘Sorry… but this grief is killing her!’

  ‘I know, wench, I see it an’ all, but there ain’t nothing any of us can do. I wish she would come back to work with us, that might help.’

  Settling back into the quiet, they continued working, each with their own thoughts about how to help Violet out of the blackness that surrounded her.

  *

  The snow continued to fall, adding bleakness to misery. The white landscape stood in stark contrast to the factory pall that always hung over Wednesbury.

  Trudging to the marketplace, the cold bit to the bone and Mary shivered as her skirts brushed the snow, soaking the hem, making the going harder with the added weight.

  ‘Hello Mabel,’ Mary said to the woman standing their stall.

  Returning the greeting, Mabel arranged the jars, saying, ‘Bloody hell, it ain’t half cold standing here today!’

  ‘Ar wench, see how it goes, and in an hour if business is slack, get yourself off home.’

  Smiling her thanks, Mabel turned to speak to a woman approaching the stall.

  As Mary turned to leave, Mabel called, ‘Mary… there’s a woman here wants a word.’ Retracing her steps, Mary looked at the woman Mabel indicated with a jerk of her thumb.

  ‘Take a walk with me, it’s too bloody cold to be standing. Mabel, never mind waiting, you just get yourself off home now,’ Mary said, finding a handkerchief to wipe her cold nose. Mabel began to pack the stall up, grateful she could go home to a roaring fire.